Batman: Arkham Survivor
by BatmanGenesis
Summary: Set approximately half a year after the events in Arkham City, a mentally unwell Batman, on the fateful anniversary of his parents' murder, finds himself trapped before a dangerous new enemy who may just be the one to finally kill him. Maybe.


Batman: Arkham Survivor

I had originally written this short story as an optional assignment for one of my college literary courses (the story itself influenced by Heart of Hush, Arkham City: End Game, and issue #1 of Legends of the Dark Knight digital series), and kept on procrastinating for over a year to upload it here. With the celebration Batman's 75th Anniversary more or less still ongoing, I was eventually motivated enough to further edit this piece and show the world, or at the very least, people who read online fanfiction, yet another Batman story, albeit fanmade and by an amateur like myself. The central theme of this story is guilt. In this story, guilt as a theme is demonstrated especially with regards as to how the story progresses from the beginning (exposition) and to its end (resolution) according to a typical story diagram. The reader (you) in this case will eventually find the theme to be played with in this story, perhaps with a sense of some insightfulness. Set approximately half a year after the ending of _Arkham City_, the reader will find that in this story, the dark knight is clearly not in the best mental state. As a result, he has become vulnerable against a new enemy who not only intends to destroy Batman, but that of Bruce Wayne (his civilian alter-ego) as well. Throughout the story, our hero will be presented with ghosts of his past and must overcome his own insecurities in order to best his new foe and _survive_. And with that, our story begins now.

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><p>It had been about half a year since the controversial super prison, <em>Arkham City<em>, finally shutdown in Gotham City. In spite of this, Batman was not in the best mental state, for having witnessed the death of his arch-nemesis, the Joker and his beloved, Talia, both of whom he had complicated relations. There was a greater impact, however, with Joker's death, because of the void he left in the city's criminal underworld. Because of this, one may assume that there would be a violent war for control, with Penguin, Two-Face, and Riddler as the best contenders to replace Joker's role as the top criminal.

And yet, Gotham has been experiencing relative peace and stability for approximately 3 months, since April 1st, April Fools Day, of all days, for some odd but ironic reason. This of course bothered our hero to no end until one evening, on the fateful anniversary of his parents' murder on June 26, he chanced upon a mugging when he went to visit crime alley. The mugging involved _two parents_ and their _son_. He could still remember those two bullets that terrible night, which ended his parents' lives and changed his own life forever. He shook off his painful memories. It was to be a simple intervention on his part to stop this crime in progress, and as such, there was no need for his cowl's detective vision for further analysis, or so he thought.

As he pounced on the thug, he wanted to mercilessly pummel away at the thug to vent out his anger and sadness from the deaths of Joker and Talia, as well as many others in his past. By the time he took the mugger down by slamming his head against the ground, Batman immediately blacked out before turning to face the family to check if they were unharmed…

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><p>When he woke up, he found himself lying prone on what appeared to be a gurney and unable to move at all. <em>Where am I?<em>, he groggily wondered. Wherever he was, it was cold and mostly dark. He promptly criticized himself. _Stupid and careless!_ He should have anticipated this, that one night he would be attacked and captured, even when his city was at peace. He was also quick to blame himself yet again for his past failures in _Arkham City_, namely his inability to save Talia and Joker, due to his confused and weakened condition that long night. His inner thoughts, however, stopped their course when he noticed the presence of his captor.

"How nice of you to finally wake up, old friend…" said an unseen voice in the shadows. "I was beginning to think that the sedative I injected you with was too much." The figure stepped closer to the mostly incapacitated dark knight and revealed himself in the light: Bruce Wayne, garbed in a generic trench coat.

"Are we old friends, Elliot?" asked Batman, with sarcasm in his tone. "We both know that you're not the real Bruce Wayne." The man before him, Dr. Thomas Elliot, was a onetime childhood friend of his, who in his twisted endeavor to wreak revenge upon his alter ego, not only _cut offhis own face_, but killed and cut off the faces of six people as well within the last year or so. Elliot did this in order to surgically reconstruct his visage to that of Bruce Wayne. When Batman encountered Elliot back in _Arkham City_, the deranged doctor's new face was covered in various stitches, which was an imperfect, but still convincing disguise. By now the surgical scars on "Bruce Wayne" were all but gone; he looked and _talked _like him, or rather, Wayne.

"You're probably wondering where you are right now," smugly remarked Elliot. "I wouldn't worry about it too much. After all, you're going to die tonight… _Bruce_."

The dark knight maintained his stoic expression. _How did he figure it out?_, he immediately thought to himself, his head still recovering from the drug. After all, there weren't that many enemies of his who had deduced his secret identity, Bane (who conveniently forgot due to TN-1), Ra's al Ghul, and recently, Hugo Strange, prior to his death last winter.

"Ah, you're still trying to keep your secret all _hush-hush_?" said the madman, who then explained his reasoning. "It was easy, considering oddly similar our voices were during our last meeting. When I had access to your medical records in order to find similar genetic samples in other… 'donors', I eventually determined your health and body type to be a perfect match for Batman. You had your family's wealth and resources of Wayne Enterprises to back up your fancy toys and vehicles, not to mention the years spent traveling around the world… training god knows where. _Finally_, it was obvious that your parents' murder doubtlessly triggered your desire to dress up as a bat and fight criminals, especially now dead _clowns_."

Batman glared at that last part, as Elliot elicited a terrible smile that obviously was a reference to _him_. Batman inquired to his former friend, now enemy, "Why are you doing this? Neither I nor Bruce Wayne have ever done any wrong against you."

"Wrong!" venomously snapped Elliot, who pointed his finger at the dark knight. "You had the good luck of having dead parents and inheriting your fortune, whereas I had to wait for years for my ailing mother to die!"

_What is he talking about?_ "But, Tommy…" Bruce said, trying to urge his former friend to listen to reason. "…you were angry at me for my father failing to save yours in that car accident, unless—"

The sociopath enthusiastically added, "Unless it was all an act on my part? Of course it was! I needed to divert that noisy detective's suspicion away from me!" Batman angrily cried, "So you wanted to kill your parents for money?!" Elliot, however, smirked upon his former friend's assertion. "Oh, the money was half the benefit, _Bruce_," he calmly answered. "Unlike you, I _hated _my parents."

"What?" uttered Batman, incredulous. During their conversation, he had been trying to move the rest of his body, but to no avail. "Why?" Batman inquired, curious but disgusted.

Elliot vindicated, "Why, you ask? Because my father was an abusive drunk while my mother was a control freak. _Mommy _insisted that I study famous philosophers and strategists in order to cope with _daddy's_ abuse. When I cut the brakes to the car, after he died, my mother was even worse when she was crippled. Making me always dote on her, to take care of her… And so, when she threatened to cut off my inheritance after an argument one night, I…smothered my _smother of a mother_, hehehe."

Bruce's eyes beneath his mask widened upon this revelation. "You're a complete monster," he stated with tranquil fury in his voice. Batman again vainly struggled to move his arms and legs, which were surprisingly not held down by restraints.

"You would have done the same exact thing if you were me, _Bruce_," asserted the mad doctor. "If you did, you probably would not have squandered your family fortune on fighting crime in such a pretentious manner."

"At least I try to help lives, not take them away," he countered to the madman. This reply, however, did little to deter the unhinged Elliot, who continued his rant.

"Trying to make me feel all guilty? That's fresh, coming from the _man child_ who's been suffering from survivor's guilt from his parents' murder for _decades_!"

The term Elliot mentioned, survivor's guilt, had brought back images of Joker, Talia, and his parents' corpses to Bruce's already troubled mind. He _was _suffering from survivor's guilt, which he determined was due to his carelessness and other perceived human weaknesses. Bruce then realized that he was perpetuating the cycle of guilt, by making himself weaker, not stronger. He had to escape, and take down Elliot before the mad doctor could do something irrevocable. However, he still could not move his body, except for his facial muscles.

"Not in the mood to talk? I understand. Since you're probably wondering at this point who posed as my wife and child, along with the would-be mugger, but I wouldn't pay much more attention to them if I were you. I've tied up those loose ends… permanently before coming here with you. Because if I were you, I would be more concerned with why you can't move the rest of your body. Am I right, _Bruce_?" inquired Elliot, who maliciously revealed, "That's because of the gas you've been breathing since I put you in this room, which I have inoculated myself for. I also have your belt, cape, and gloves, just in case you had some contingencies. I must say, you really were prepared, but unfortunately, so was I." Batman himself had grimaced, for being without three of his suit's distinguishing components, in addition to paralysis except for his face, made escape virtually, but far from impossible.

Elliot continued ranting as he began to cart his paralyzed foe atop a gurney out of the dimly lit surgery room and into the boiler room nearby. "And I think we're almost done talking here, _Bruce_. Of course, I'll be Bruce Wayne in your stead and retire the Batman persona, once I kill you by cremating your _conscious_ body inside the furnace in the next room, and anyone else in your so-called family who realizes I'm not who I appear to be. Like dear old Alf…"

Batman gave Elliot a dark glare upon hearing this, which momentarily had the effect of breaking his foe's calm yet arrogant composure.

The doctor nonetheless regained himself and continued. "Anyway, I think it's appropriate that you die here in the "hellfire" of the now abandoned Arkham Asylum, the very place where your demented failures, your "rogues gallery," who have consistently escaped from and constantly plagued your precious city. I suppose with the clown dead, Gotham has one less monster to worry about, although I'm sure someone else will eventually become the city's top costumed criminal freak."

Batman, for the most part, had ignored his adversary's rants during this time. Instead, he was plagued by the memories of some people he's lost over the years, starting with his parents, Jason, Talia, and oddly enough, Joker… He had hoped to stall long enough to overcome the gas's paralytic effects, but it seemed futile so far. But then, a terrifying idea had sprouted in his mind. _Perhaps tonight is my last. Perhaps, this_ _is my way to atone for my mistakes, and see those I've lost._

He felt the intense heat of the furnace wash over his prone, defenseless body, which brought to mind the image of the Joker's corpse being cremated half a year ago. Other memories began flashing through his mind as well, culminating with the nights when he lost his parents and made his vow.

"Any last words, old 'friend'?" smugly inquired Elliot, while he opened the furnace door in front of the gurney.

Inspired, Batman steely replied, "Yes, Tommy. As a matter of fact, I do. You talk too much." And with that, he finally began to move his right arm…

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><p>And that's how this short story ends, so interpret that however you wish, fellow readers. Have a Happy Halloween!<p> 


End file.
